


Some Years In Some Kind Of Life

by Velocity_Owl87



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Complicated Relationships, Dubious Science, Human Experimentation, Implied Mpreg, Introspection, Missions, Multi, Polyamory, Strangers to Lovers, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velocity_Owl87/pseuds/Velocity_Owl87
Summary: Marshall Walters was just doing his job and then the mission went horribly wrong and he found himself a guinea pig alongside a stranger. A stranger who turns out of the Jack Rollins and who ends up being his anchor during the experiments they undergo with DNA splicing and procreation.After the rescue, doubts and complications happen, forcing Marshall to evaluate and adapt, and eventually find some peace in the midst of it all.
Relationships: Brock Rumlow & Original Character(s), Brock Rumlow/Jack Rollins, Brock Rumlow/Jack Rollins/Original Male Character, Jack Rollins & Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	Some Years In Some Kind Of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to "You're Not The Man You Think You Are" in that the events are told by Marshall Walters, who Jack becomes bonded to during those events. Can stand alone, since it's Marshall kind of filling in the blanks. He was intriguing so I ended up writing his own take. Marshall looks like Henry Cavill, but with longer hair and a beard.   
> Proofed, but if mistakes pop up, they will be sorted out.

Marshall checked his gear one last time and nodded in satisfaction when he again found everything was in good working order. Despite having the confirmation, he couldn’t help the twinge of worry that followed. Although they had given him and his cell what was a routine mission, he couldn’t help but to have a strong sense of foreboding. Something was going to happen here and he knew deep in his bones that it would definitely change his life.

Yet when Talbot, his right hand man talked to him, he pushed it away as simply nerves. Maybe it was due to having a new kid on the roster. Or maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen his boyfriend in a few weeks. He had called, but Braden hadn’t replied. 

He sighed and frowned at his reflection in the window before him. He frowned at the sight of his dark hair curling on top top his head and made a mental note to get it cut. And shave, he added when he saw the dark stubble all along his squared off jaw. His frown got deeper when he noticed the sharpness of both his jaw and cheekbones. 

Even his eyes looked dull and empty, like a washed out watercolour of the sky. He shook his head and adjusted the pack on his shoulders. He huffed in annoyance as he had to tighten it slightly and made a mental note to actually eat and work out again. He was losing muscle mass and on his tall frame it would be obvious sooner than with others. 

“After this mission.” He told himself, nodding to his reflection as he got it all worked out and headed towards the hangers. After this mission he would put everything in order not just with his body, but with Braden as well. He loved Braden and he wanted to mend things. Start again on a clean slate once he completes this mission. 

All of these were in the future and he pushed it all aside as he greeted the rest of his cell and relayed their orders.

Whatever it was, he tried to just focus on his job and not let the new guys down. 

So he tried to push it all behind him and focus on the mission. An extraction in North Africa. In and out. 

Simple. 

Except it wasn’t. 

Someone must have ratted them out. Or their intelligence was faulty. 

They walked into a trap that Marshall saw and knew what he had to do. He called the extraction before they got to their quarry, which was already dead. The blood in the bunker and the head that rolled towards him was enough to show him that. 

“Get out! All of you! Get out!” He ordered them, shoving them all out and towards the helicopter waiting for them. He stayed behind to cover their exit, shooting at the insurgents as they tried to get them. He heard the new kid yell and Talbot swear, but he didn’t check. 

“Walters! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

He was about to reply, but was hit in the leg before he could follow. He fell and yelled at Talbot to go. 

“But Walters!” Talbot tried to protest, yet Walters shook his head and waved them off. 

The pilot understood and pulled them away, leaving Marshall behind to be surrounded by insurgents. 

One of them came forward and grabbed Marshall’s hair, lifting his head enough to get a good look at his face. 

“Is he it?” One of them asked in one of the thickest Australian accents that Marshall had ever heard in his life. 

“Yep. He’s the one. Dunno why the others weren’t on the list, but that’s not up to me.” The other replied in a clipped American one. 

Marshall opened his mouth to ask who it was that wanted him when another insurgent smashed him on the head with the end of his rifle and Marshall knew no more. 

_ Two _

He woke up on a stretcher, his arms and legs restrained and with a light shining in his face. Lines went into his arms and neck and he couldn’t see anything. He could hear voices, machines, and other sounds that he couldn’t quite connect before he was injected with something and things went weird after that. 

It was like a set of scenes. He could see them testing things on him. Surgeries. Pain. And people touching him. Putting things in him. 

He thought he heard himself screaming. Pain. Coldness, beeping, and finally, darkness again.

Marshall didn’t know how long it had gone on. Only that one day, he woke up and was able to turn his head to look around the room. It was still the same plastic and metal sterile room full of medical smells and on the cold side. He didn’t like the scents and his vision seemed sharper. 

His hearing too and it was that which told him he wasn’t the only one that was awake.

He saw others like him. Either drugged unconscious, or being taken out for other tests. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t a scent of death. Only of drugs and bandages and effluvia. Some of it was unpleasant and salty bitter that was enough to make him wrinkle his nose. 

One of them was on his right side and Marshall found himself focusing on him. He was striking to Marshall. Not just his looks, but his dark green eyes, his square features and the scar on his jaw drew his attention. He had the look of a Navy SEAL or SAS. He wasn’t a regular grunt and it made Marshall wonder why all of them were here. 

And especially, why a man like  _ him _ was here. Marshall saw the same question in the man’s eyes as well as betrayal that made Marshall want to reach out. He had been set up and Marshall knew how that felt.

He wanted to say something to the other man. He wanted to hear a voice. To make a connection of some sort. 

Marshall had been cut off from everything and had been unmoored from all of it. He just wanted the connection and to take his life back again. He desperately needed it. And wanted it. And he would need help and a touchstone. So he wanted to talk to the man to take that first step in doing so.

He didn’t get a chance, since the man exploded in a flurry of action, his movements too fast for Marshall to follow. All he saw was blurs and the screams and groans of agony from the doctors he had attacked. He didn’t know exactly when the other had found a scalpel, but he had and was putting it to good use. 

Marshall watched and tested his own bonds. It was easy once he got enough momentum, the canvas loops ripping off the stretcher easily. 

Now that he was free, he needed a weapon and grabbed the IV pole, smacking one of the handlers and doing his best to keep them away from himself and the other man. If he was going to get out, Marshall was going to do his best to help him and get himself out too. 

They fought hard, slashing and hitting at anyone that got close to them, making their way towards the doors that remained open, alarms blaring and grunts pouring in to subdue them. 

Yet as much as they tried, they were overwhelmed and once again, Marshall found himself forced to his knees. 

He was held pinned beside the other man, who only gave him a tight lipped smile before they jabbed them both in the neck and Marshall was out again. 

_ Three _

He was calm and quiet after that. 

Whatever they gave him made sure of that as well as the experiment that was currently growing inside of him. 

He had wanted to cut it out the moment that they had woken him and Jack up. Jack had been the same. They had gotten as far as knocking them out and grabbing scalpels, but they had learned from the last time. Marshall didn’t even know what had hit them.

All he knew was that they had been placed in a different wing of the facility, both in a cell and drugged. Although he wasn’t as badly as Jack, who seemed numb as he shuffled around the place with blank eyes as he was led to be tested and for check ups. He didn’t fight back and had sunk more into the animalistic traits that the gene experiments had given them. 

Marshall didn’t quite figure out what they had done, but the vertical pupils and the retractable claws were enough of a clue. The heightened senses another. The need to be near Jack, the only one he felt he could trust. The need for physical connection and seeking it in Jack, who accepted it without a fight. In fact, it helped him, so the medical personnel didn’t separate them. 

It helped in dealing with Jack so they allowed it. Even if they found it distasteful whenever they dealt with them and their children. But if they weren’t getting injured so they could turn a blind eye to that. 

Marshall himself was just kept passive enough to not do any damage to himself or to the experiment he was carrying. He found it odd that they kept him somewhat lucid, but he didn’t complain. He only watched and waited for the best chance for him and Jack to get out. He may have been beaten, but he wasn’t out. 

“We can’t risk you losing this. Not when we have the Asset’s DNA in you.” One of them had tossed off casually as they had measured his belly and taken his vitals for the latest round of check ups. Once they had finished, they had more or less dismissed him from their notice. 

He had blinked at that, unsure of what they meant and filed it away to ask Jack later when the drugs in his body were lowered enough for Jack to be rational and able to reply. It seemed important. As did Jack’s embryo.

They had moved onto Jack now, dismissing Marshall without a second thought as they worked. Marshall didn’t mind. The less attention he got from them, the better. He simply shrugged and pulled on the shapeless grey long sleeved shirt and pants they wore. 

He moved slowly, rubbing circles in the taut skin of his rounding abdomen, noting the stretch marks red and angry against the paleness of his skin. He made a mental note to put more lotion on after his showers. It was the only luxury they let him have and he was pathetically grateful for it. 

It was the only place he felt as if he could close his eyes and pretend he was still in his partner’s flat on a leave, showering in anticipation for an evening outing. Maybe dinner at their favourite restaurant and then to the pub with their friends. He missed his old life. He missed being in the SAS. He missed Blake. 

All of it, yet he couldn’t voice it. Or worse, hold on to the emotions long enough to. They poured over him like water, leaving him standing in the plastic shower cubicle with his changing body, a small scrap of humanity in him, and a vacant eyed Jack Rollins wanting comfort from him. He sometimes wanted to push Jack away, but found he simply couldn’t. Not when Jack purred and curled up next to him and nuzzled him and endorphins flooded through him. Or them both. 

He made another mental note to ask Jack, who was lying on the stretcher as he was checked out, green eyes vacantly staring at the ceiling. Goosebumps pimpled his body as he lay there naked to the waist, but other than that, there was no reaction. No annoyance. No discomfort. Just Jack lying there, patiently waiting for them to get their examination over with. 

“Rumlow’s whelp seems to be healthy as well. At least we have those to show the funding isn’t going to waste. Hey did you-” Their voices faded as they finally charted the numbers and observations and cleaned up Jack and their stations, leaving nothing behind. 

They moved away, leaving Marshall to help Jack wipe off the conductor gel and get dressed again. As Marshall was moving the rolling table to give Jack room to sit up, he noticed a keycard wedged under the wheels. 

Curious, he knelt down and saw it had the keychip and the words “Access Card” scribbled on it in black marker. 

“Gotcha.” He murmured as he carefully slid it in his pocket. 

It looked like their time as guinea pigs was coming to a close.

_ Four _

“What do you think is going to happen now?” Marshall asked as they slowly walked down the tracks in the empty gym. 

Jack shrugged, his mouth twisting unhappily as they moved. Neither of them were really keen on the exercise, but it was better than staying in the isolated and antiseptic smelling ward SHIELD had put them in. They got an hour to walk around, their guards watching them warily, their hands on their weapons in case they tried anything. 

As if they even could, Marshall thought, pushing away the long curls that had slipped from the tail he kept his hair in. He eyed Jack’s neatly tied hair back with a slight bit of envy, since it stayed put and never got into his eyes. And was very soft. He blushed when he thought of that, trying to not recall the times he had carded his fingers through Jack’s hair as they had laid curled up in their nest together. 

Jack though, only gave him one of those half-smiles that made him feel a curl of pleasure in his stomach and reached out to neatly tuck Marshall’s errant curls behind his ear. It was a small gesture, but he appreciated it nonetheless. He was touch starved and the further along he was in the pregnancy, the more he wanted to be touched and held. 

Jack, for all his seemingly standoffish ways, would happily indulge him. Even going as far as purring whenever they were curled up together. A sound that Marshall couldn’t get enough of. And neither would Jack, it seemed. Since he would wordlessly ask Marshall to do the same for him whenever he came back from visiting Brock Rumlow. 

Brock Rumlow. Someone that Marshall wasn’t quite sure how he truly felt about. He had dismissed the STRIKE leader when SHIELD had arrived, being too busy wreaking havoc on the mainframe and giving all of the advantage to SHIELD as he could. Marshall had seen the opportunity and run with it, determined to gain freedom for all of them. 

He hadn’t really paid much mind to Jack until they were dumped into the helicarrier. Jack bloody and restrained while the rest huddled together and watched as Captain America patched up Rumlow. Or tried his best, no doubt intimidated by Jack’s glares and snarls. Marshall had just watched, silently putting it all together when he realised  _ who _ Rumlow was. 

And now, Rumlow featured heavily in their lives, since his and Jack’s testimonies were helping neutralise HYDRA and their bases. Yet Marshall hadn’t been released, like the others had. Even the ones that had been carrying and had lost their children had been allowed to go. Now it was just him and Jack. And with no release date in sight. 

“They haven’t told me anything. Brock, well, I’m not sure what he is doing. All I know is that we have these kids and maybe then, we know.” Jack finally replied. 

Marshall frowned as they did another loop, despite his back twinging, “So I guess after this, you leave?” 

Jack stopped and looked at him, his brow furrowed as he did. “No. We’re sticking together. Remember? Cells stay together. Colonies stay together. I’m not going anywhere.”

Marshall nodded, absurdly pleased at his words. He had wanted for Jack to say them, yet there was still a nagging doubt at the back of his mind that needed to be put to rest. 

“And if Rumlow asks you to go? What then? I know how you feel about him. You did talk about him when we were in HYDRA’s hands,” Marshall reminded him as Jack turned to look at him, slowing down as he fought to recall those conversations. Once he did, he nodded to himself as if he had decided something before he turned to speak to Marshall. 

“I’d tell him the same thing that I’m telling you now: I’m not going anywhere without you. You’re my cellmate. My colony mate. Those bonds, they’re hard-won and mean a whole lot to me. I’m not about to throw them away. Not for him or anyone else.”

The words were quietly spoken, but Marshall heard all of them. Felt all of the weight behind them as well. He could feel the truth of them and the way that Jack’s hand tightened on his arm. 

Marshall nodded, smiling a bit in return at Jack. “Same, Jack Rollins. Same.” 

They stood there for a moment and Marshall held his breath for a moment, sure that Jack was about to kiss him. It felt like it, since Jack was getting closer. His eyes slipped shut then-

“Rollins! Your visit came through! Get a move on!”

Marshall’s eyes flew open and he was sure that Jack muttered something about the guard’s parentage before he shouted back an agreement.

“We’ll finish this when I get back, yes?” Jack asked as they walked towards the entrance, their steps a bit quicker than Marshall would have liked to take at this stage of his pregnancy. 

“I’ll be back soon. I promise.” Jack murmured before they were separated, Jack cuffed and Marshall slowly walked back to their nest to wait. 

Or at least he tried to. The baby was sapping more and more of his energy and it was all he could do to stay awake after taking off his shoes and curling up in the nest. He was asleep in seconds after his head hit the pillow. 

The next thing he knew was Jack was crawling into their nest and curling up against Marshall’s back and pulling him close. He made a small noise, to which Jack murmured sleepily to him before they both fell back asleep.

_ Five _

Jack was worried. Marshall could tell as he drummed his fingers on his thigh and watched the door even more than Marshall himself was wont to do. 

Marshall only watched as he rocked Winnie to sleep and hoped that Jack wasn’t going to be as disappointed as Marshall was when the summons never arrived. He stroked Winnie’s back as he deliberately pushed his sadness down at Braden basically ditching him. He had hoped, even knowing that it was highly unlikely it would happen, that Braden would visit. Marshall had seen the summons. Had hoped that Braden would reply and reach out for them to work something out. But Braden had remained silent and even after all those months, he had to admit defeat in that matter. 

Even Brock, who had been awkward and sometimes annoyed at having Marshall be there when he started to visit Jack, had come around. He had even smiled at Winnie. Even if it had been a brief one as he studied her, he had at least acknowledged that she was part of Jack’s life. Just like Marshall was. And as much as he grumbled, he had made a point to bring a gift for Winnie before he had been taken out for questioning again.

That had been the routine ever since Brock had come back banged up and with his arm and shoulder shot up. He had brought more than injuries back. Intel and the Asset. Who was insistent on meeting Marshall and Winnie. 

A meeting that Marshall had no real thoughts on. As long as Jack and Brock wouldn’t be thrown in the Raft, he would consent to everything. But as for building some kind of relationship with Winnie’s father...He honestly didn’t know. And he hoped that the man wasn’t looking for one. 

The doors opened, stopping Jack’s pacing and getting Marshall up, Winnie in his arms as they walked to doors to see Brock, cuffed as always, and The Asset-

“Sergeant Barnes?” Marshall muttered as the two men made their way to the bigger cell they all lived in. 

He couldn’t believe it and moved closer to the door, nudging Jack a bit to get a better look. 

Out of all people, The Asset was Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes? Marshall blinked at that. Exactly how-? His questions stopped the moment he saw the silver arm and the old fashioned uniform the man was wearing. HYDRA. Of course. 

“Told you.” Jack muttered, nudging him gently as he did so. 

“Sergeant Walters? I’m Bucky Barnes and I believe that I am the father of Winnifred Walters. May I see her?”

Marshall blinked as the door slid open and the Asset stood there, waiting for his reply while Brock was uncuffed and Jack went to embrace him. 

He didn’t sense anything bad from the man. Confusion, hope and anticipation. But no ill intent. It was the last that prompted him to coax Winnie into Barnes’ arms. 

And saw that he had done the right thing by the soft and awed look on his face as he adjusted his daughter in his arms.

~*~*~*~

Marshall had been reading at the table, lazily rocking Winnie’s carrier with his foot when Brock showed up with a folder under his arm. Jack was sleeping, conserving as much energy as he could before the baby arrived. Brock ran a hand down Marshall’s shoulder gently before sitting down across from Marshall, wincing a bit when his shoulder hit the back of the chair. Despite the wound healing well, his arm still had a while to go and it ached. Jostling it made it worse and Marshall winced in sympathy. 

“Can’t wait for that to end.” Brock muttered as he made himself comfortable before he put the folder on the table and slid it over to Marshall. 

“What’s this?” Marshall asked, putting his book away and opening the folder, seeing the SHIELD letterhead on what looked to be-

“An official offer of employment?”

Brock nodded, frowning in pain as he rubbed his shoulder and stretched his arm out, which was still in a sling.

“Yeah, why not? You’re trained SAS and there are new recruits that need training. We could work in tandem and get them right and ready for anything,” Brock shrugged as he sat back, his eyes skittering away from Marshall’s. “At least that’s what SHIELD thinks.”

Marshall nodded, making a sound deep in his throat as he read through the documents. They said as much, wanting the skills the SAS had instilled in him to make better agents. He didn’t mind the offer, he had been thinking along the same lines as well when Winnie was asleep or with Bucky. He had to work. 

Sitting around dwelling on the months of capture and working on what he had with Jack and Brock wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He had trained for more and he knew if he didn’t do something, he would start to resent his current situation and get stuck mourning what could have been with Braden. 

His therapist had already said as much so he shouldn’t have been  _ too _ surprised that Brock had found a way. They _ did _ share a therapist after all. 

“But why in tandem? Aren’t you a field operative in STRIKE?” Marshall asked delicately, closing the folder to look at Brock. 

Brock’s mouth twitched as he looked up from the table. He rubbed his stubbled chin for a few moments as he tried to find the words to reply. 

“I was. But not anymore. Not with the loss of the range of motion and not with the fact that I was a triple agent. Can’t cut me loose, can’t throw me in jail and I can’t say I don’t blame them. Job’s a way to keep an eye on me and keep you sane. Besides,” he grinned, trying to lighten the mood, “it’s not like we can’t do hands on demos in the class.”

Marshall gave a ghost of a laugh before he stood up and went to Brock, gently wrapping his arms around him and embracing him. Brock was stiff for a few moments, but finally let himself melt into Marshall’s embrace. 

He didn’t approve of Brock’s dealings and it would take a while for him and Jack to accept what he had done, but they understood why he had changed. And showed he was serious about changing by cooperating with SHIELD at every step of the way. So far, he hadn’t slipped up. Hadn’t complained about losing his clearances and status. 

Marshall knew, despite the silence, that it must have rankled. Despite having them all, it had to sting at times. So he didn’t say anything and simply offered silent comfort instead.

“True. With the good stuff, right?” Marshall asked, while Brock snorted. 

“Can you even  _ use _ the good stuff?” Brock cackled, while Marshall’s eyes narrowed before he nipped Brock’s ear, making him yelp.

“Ow, Jesus! Watch those teeth!” Brock complained, rubbing the bite while Marshall glowered. 

“Only if you don’t pull crap like that at work.” Marshall snapped. Brock paused his actions to look up at Brock. 

“You mean it?”

Marshall nodded, smiling in return when Brock’s face broke into his own wide smile right before pulling him into a kiss. 

It wasn’t what he had expected when he had set out on that mission almost two years before, but it wasn’t bad either. 

He could live with that.

END


End file.
